


Onyx

by keith-in-shibari (diet_affection)



Series: One-shots from tumblr and twitter (nsfw) [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, BDSM, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Dom Keith (Voltron), Dom/sub, Don't Try This At Home, Edgeplay, Fear Play, Knifeplay, M/M, No actual cutting/blood, Power Bottom Keith (Voltron), Riding, Stomach Bulge, Sub Lance (Voltron), Temperature Play, Top Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 06:56:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16012646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diet_affection/pseuds/keith-in-shibari
Summary: Lance has been drinking, he gets back to the castle ship, hits the panel to his room and stumbles into the dark room to collapse into the warmth of his bed.He wakes up a few hours later with a knife at his throat, and quickly realizes he got the wrong room.





	Onyx

**Author's Note:**

> Reupload from my [tumblr](https://keith-in-shibari.tumblr.com)

The castle hallway was wobbling suspiciously beneath his feet. Either Coran had tinkered with the gravity settings, or Lance was drunker than he thought. He’d known he should’ve refused that last glass of nunvil. Oh well, there was nothing he could do about it now, except dive into bed and get a solid ten hours of deep sleep.

Groaning quietly to himself, he slammed his hand on the panel and stumbled into his pitch-black room. He had barely enough coordination left to step out of his pants without faceplanting on the floor, and then the softness of his bed welcomed him. It felt warmer than usual, and he sighed pleasantly, sinking quickly into dreamless slumber.

When he blinked his eyes drearily open, he quickly realized something was wrong, even through the fog in his head. The room was still as dark. The world had stopped spinning, but his lack of a headache told him it couldn’t be morning yet. Also –

Someone was sitting on top of him.

He screamed, though it came out more like a shrill squeak through his dry throat. Squirming in panic, he tried to get the weight off; every grappling technique he’d ever learnt gone from his mind. Hands pushed him roughly down into the mattress again, and then he felt it – the cold press of something sharp against his throat. Instinct kicked in, and he immediately stilled. Adrenaline was pumping through him, his heart straining against his chest.

Then, there was a growl from his attacker, and it sounded strangely familiar.

“Who are you? Answer or I slit your throat.”

Lance blinked in the darkness, hopeful relief washing some of the fear away.

“Keith?”

“Who are –“, he started again, but cut off, probably as recognition hit him too.

The night lights were slammed on, stripes along the walls glowing softly. They lit up the room enough let them see clearly. And oh god, it was Keith - straddling him with a chilling scowl on his face, clad only in a loose, faded red shirt and underwear. He suddenly couldn’t speak, but for another reason.

The threatening expression on Keith’s face melted into relief for a split second, but then twisted with annoyance.

“Drunk again?”, he hissed, “And this time you thought it a good idea to stumble into my bed?”

“Not on purpose! And I’m not really drunk any lo –“

“Quiet.”

The simple but commanding word made him freeze again. He swallowed heavily, and realized that the knife was still resting against his throat. He glanced questioningly up at Keith, and saw anger.

Fuck. He couldn’t take it when Keith looked at him like that; the hard stare of his eyes heated with fury and an unspoken command to give in. Whenever they argued – which admittedly was often; addicting as it was – Keith would stare him down like this as he hissed out a retort. It would make Lance’s stomach twist; his blood boil; his heart thump away. It was easy to confuse with anger – but it wasn’t. He knew that from the way every nerve in him yearned to submit; to get on his knees and let that rage wash over him, in an exhilarating wave of red that screamed danger, danger -!

That same rush of submission prickled through his body now, making his body heavy and unwilling to move. He simply laid there, letting Keith hold a knife to his throat and glare at him. At the lack of response, Keith frowned.

“Are you actually scared of me?”, he asked, voice quiet but sounding genuinely curious.

Lance didn’t move.

Keith seemed to realize something, and the blade was lifted slightly, enough for him to answer without being cut.

“You want me to put away the blade?”

The hardness in his voice had melted away, turning dangerously soft. Like silk wrappers around daggers. Gulping, Lance shook his head. It was probably the stupidest move he’d ever done – why would he not want him to put the knife away? Keith seemed to think something similar, because the huskiness of his voice was mixed with a solid dose of confusion.

“You still drunk or something?”, he murmured, eyebrows lifting.

“…No,” Lance managed to say. It was true – time and the freshness of fear had burned away the alcohol, but he still felt intoxicated – soaring on adrenaline and hormones of lust.

Keith lifted the knife higher, and Lance’s gaze followed it automatically. The gleam of it was hypnotizing.

“You want this?”, he said quietly.

Lance cleared his throat. He couldn’t believe he was saying this – but he had sunk down in a chamber somewhere deep inside of him, the rational part no longer in control. He was drowning in surrender, letting the current carry him where it wanted.

“Yes.”

Hesitant at first, Keith traced the tip of the knife slowly down his cheekbone, making sure to not press the sharp edges into his skin.

“This okay?”

When he didn’t react apart from glancing at the movement under hooded eyes, he continued. The blade caressed his jawline in a slow move, dragging across the skin smoothly. When it travelled down his throat again, this time in a vertical line, Lance trembled. He was already breathing heavily through his nose, his body straining to stay completely still.

God, why, why was this turning him on so much?

Keith seemed pleased at his reactions; one corner of his lips turning up as he continued trailing the knife across his collarbones and the side of his neck.

“You like knives, huh?”

He hummed, eyes darkening.

“I thought that was my thing.”

You’re my thing, Lance thought. Especially when you get like this.

He kept quiet, all his concentration on staying still as sharp metal caressed him all over. Then Keith was moving down his chest, the blade catching slightly on the fabric. Frowning, he lifted the shirt, his dark eyes questioning.

“Do you mind?”

Lance shook his head.

“Words,” Keith grunted.

“No.”

He sounded hoarse, voice unsteady. When Keith yanked the shirt away from him and begun cutting it to shreds, he couldn’t help but whimper at the primal fear it sent through him – like he was prey being readied for devouring.

Soon his chest was exposed amidst the ragged remains of his shirt. Keith began flicking the shreds away with the tip of the knife, before taking a second to admire his work. Lance flushed under his scrutinizing gaze, and he cleared his throat to get the other moving again.

Blinking out of his daze, Keith lowered his eyes and began tracing the lines of his stomach with a steady hand. When he reached the middle, he pressed the blade flat down, chilly metal against soft belly.

“Cold, isn’t it?”

It was barely a murmur.

“Yeah,” Lance breathed.

“It’s sharp too. You feel that?”

At the slightest tease of an edge against his vulnerable flesh, he gasped and shifted involuntarily. Before he could blink, Keith had lifted the blade. Lance paled. He suddenly felt very grateful for the other’s impeccable reaction time.

“Don’t move,” Keith hissed, “Don’t – fucking – move.”

“Ah, sorry –“, he whispered, closing his eyes and talking a deep, shaky breath.

“God, you’re killing me…”

“I’m trying very hard not to,” Keith grumbled as he lowered the knife again.

He moved more hesitantly this time, sliding the blade with the utmost care and lifting it whenever his muscles jumped. Lance was biting his lip in concentration, hands trembling with the effort of not leaning into that cool touch, or shying away from the sharpness.

The dance of the blade slowly constricted into tight circles around his nipple, which was perked up and sensitive. Keith flicked it with the knife, laughing softly as he yelped and flushed dark. 

His protests were cut off when Keith leant down, and slid the flat side of his knife over the nipple while wrapping his lips around the other. The cold of the blade was a sharp contrast against the wet heat of his mouth, and it had Lance shivering and squirming beneath the feeling. The evening’s first moan slipped past his lips, and their eyes met with a shock.

It shifted the mood from a mocking play to something very real. Lance could feel the atmosphere thicken and turn heavy; hot where it pressed down around them in the suddenly too-small-room. Keith’s hard-on pressed against his, and he could feel the pulse of it through the layers of their underwear.

They were actually gonna do this, huh?

Oh god.

Above him, Keith’s eyes were filled with arousal and dominance. His pupils were black onyx, shimmering with a heavy heat.

“I want to see all of you,” he said, and it sounded more like a command than a request.

He moved the knife moved towards his crotch, but Lance stopped his wrist.

“Hey… spare the boxers maybe?”, he said in a small voice, a nervous grin plastered on his face.

They were his old Godzilla boxers, well-worn and still patched with his mother’s stitching. He was a sentimental guy, ok?

Keith stared at the boxers and then at him; deadpan except for the lifted eyebrows.

“I’ll grant them mercy if I never have to see them again.”

“Deal!”, he squeaked and undressed as quickly as he could with Keith still sitting on his hips.

When he was done, he glanced questioningly up at the other. Keith was tugging at the hem of his shirt thoughtfully, before releasing it as he decided to keep it on. Lance wanted to protest - I wanna see all of you, too – but his words caught in his throat.

Slowly, Keith was rising up on his knees. Lance’s eyes went wide at the sight of Keith staring down at him, messy locks framed by the faint bluish light as he lifted the blade to slice through his own boxers in two sharp, precise cuts. 

Oh… oh.

As the fabric fell, Keith’s cock sprung free; hard and glistening with pre. So he’d been that turned on, huh. And fuck – that wasn’t the only place glistening. He could see a shine of what looked like lube streak over the bottom of his ass.

“Lucky for you I was playing with myself earlier.”

Keith smirked, widening the stance of his legs to show off the few drops that had begun leaking down his inner thigh.

“Lucky for me you were too lazy to wash away the lube,” Lance snorted under his breath.

In a flash, the knife was back on his throat, pressing his chin up. Keith snarled.

“You really think you’re in a position to insult me?”

“No!”, Lance said quickly.

And then he was slipping again, plummeting down into submission. He spoke again, tone soft and weak.

“No.”

Keith’s voice was as sharp as his blade.

“Then, for once in your life, you’re right.”

Having shut him up, Keith rose on his knees again, putting the blade safely away for now. He grabbed Lance’s cock, almost roughly, and he was lining up and sinking down before he had time to react.

God, the tight softness of it after all those hard, cold touches…

He groaned and grasped for something to hold on to, but Keith grabbed his fumbling hands and pushed them down into the mattress, effectively holding him in place. It was dominating, for sure, but instead of gripping his wrists he had intertwined their fingers. It felt – intimate. Lance’s breath left him. 

Keith rolled his hips, spearing him with his gaze as he took him deeper. He was controlling the movements easily, lifting himself up with strong thighs and sliding down at his own pace. All he could do was lie there, and take whatever Keith decided to give him. Lance shivered and learned what he’d already suspected – Keith didn’t need a weapon to wear authority like a second skin.

“Ah!”, Keith gasped as he found an angle he found pleasing, and proceeded to rock himself against that spot, quite shallowly. Lance almost whined at the lack of depth, and he did whine when the other lifted the hem of his loose-hanging shirt to grip the fabric between his teeth - watching how he fucked himself down on Lance’s cock beneath lidded, fascinated eyes. With the angle he was using, there was just the slightest hint of a bulge rolling up and down below his bellybutton.

Keith’s face twisted into a strange emotion at the sight – his eyes gleaming; his teeth showing when he smiled.

“Keith, ah – fuck, you’re… you look dangerous – “

He was gasping, groaning nonsense, but the other didn’t even hear him. His gaze was still glued to that swell of his stomach, and the way that thick cock was disappearing into his body over and over. He was losing patience, slamming himself down harder; making Lance stir deeply inside him.

Eventually, Keith’s mask began cracking as soft moans escaped him, the shirt slipping from his mouth. His neck and face were flushed a pretty red, hair plastered to his forehead. His hands were trembling in Lance’s, grip weakening, and he suddenly longed to escape. He tugged himself free from the grip, to wrap his arms around the other, pull him close and taste his skin – though every instinct in his body screamed danger.

A forceful jab at his chest made him whimper in fear. It was the blunt end of the knife; digging into the skin above his now thundering heart. Keith growled down at him, eyes flashing ferally.

“Stay. Still.”

He swallowed heavily and obeyed, letting Keith keep using him for his own pleasure, until his gasps were coming in quick succession and his muscles were tightening like a vice around Lance. With a small scream he came. Lance saw a glint of metal, and he yelped as Keith stabbed the knife into the pillow beside his head. Feathers erupted in a flash of white. 

Glancing to the side and seeing that sharp blade so close did him in, the danger of it sending him over the edge. The pleasure ripped through him as violently as the whole session had been; leaving him trembling and with red-bitten lips.

Keith kept clinging to the blade as aftershocks rippled through him. White feathers dusted his raven-black hair, and Lance lifted a shaking hand to brush them away. Keith’s eyes widened and met his, and the spell was broken.

“Lance…”

He sounded like himself again – the gentle, unsure, and strangely shy side of him.

“Are you okay?”

Lance glanced down to where their bodies were still joined. His cum were slowly spilling out of the other to pool on his belly; mixing with the splatter of Keith’s. The sight sent another shudder through him, and he had to struggle to keep his headspace clear.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“You’ve officially killed me.”

He dragged in a deep breath, feeling calmer than he had in a while.

“But I’ll live.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My nsfw tumblr where there's a lot more of this](https://keith-in-shibari.tumblr.com)


End file.
